


New York Showers

by ThePornFairy



Series: Wash your hands [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asexual Derek Hale, Corona Virus - Freeform, Derek Hale is a Softie, Gray-Asexual Derek Hale, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Pandemics, Quarantine, Showers, asexual character in sexual situation, but it's all good and consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePornFairy/pseuds/ThePornFairy
Summary: Werewolves aren't just supposed to materialize out of thin air, okay.ORWash your hands like a grumpy worrywolf is watching
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Wash your hands [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656781
Comments: 14
Kudos: 308





	New York Showers

“Dude!” Stiles yelps when he walks into the room he rents on top of a Chinese food hole-in-the-wall. It smells like garlic and ginger and sesame oil like usual. 

He flails for a bit. 

Okay, look, he wasn’t expecting 6ft of hunky werewolf to casually chill on his couch? 

“Stiles,” the hunky werewolf says, looking up from his phone.

“Dude!” Stiles repeats. Manfully. There’s no squeaking. 

The werewolf’s eyebrows do something complicated. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“The lockdown.”

Stiles drops his bag, because what else is he supposed to do. 

“Derek! I’m fine!”

“Go wash your hands,” Derek says.

Stiles would argue, really he would, but he’s been itching to wash his hands since before he walked in the door. Subways are nasty, okay?

“I can’t believe you flew out here for this,” Stiles grumps as he lathers up in the tiny bathroom. “You realize you could be here for months? It’ll take forever for this thing to go away, and look, you’re a long way from Kansas, Toto.”

“You’re the one that insists on living in Manhattan,” Derek says from right next to him.  
  
Foam drips down Derek’s shirt.

“I’m getting you a bell,” Stiles says and returns his hands to the sink.

Derek rolls his eyes.

“There’s a pandemic. Scott’s with your dad. Everyone else is either immune or near another alpha. You’re the one that needs protecting from this thing.”

“Fine! Be all logical.” You’d think it wasn’t Stiles taking a class on the construction of arguments.

“I can get a hotel,” Derek says quietly.

Stiles sighs and reaches for his towel, drying his hands. “No, I’m not actually pissed. Surprised, more like. Irritated that I wasn’t asked.”

“Figured you’d claim you’re fine,” Derek shrugs. He looks soft around the eyes. 

“I _am_ fine,” Stiles says, but even he can hear how petulant that sounds. 

The bathroom is really not large enough for two adults, but Derek squeezes in anyway, pressing Stiles back against the sink as he noses over Stiles’s hairline, lips gentle on Stiles’s forehead. Stiles presses closer, loops his arms around Derek’s waist. 

“Need you safe,” Derek mutters. “Shower.”

“You’re not going to fit in that stall with me.”

“I’m not sure you’re going to fit in that … stall.” He’s pulling at Stiles shirt and Stiles relents. 

Derek’s hands feel so good on his skin. Stiles sighs as he leans his head against Derek’s shoulder, allowing himself to be petted for a long while. Eventually, the hands move down, tug his belt open, thumb the button, then Derek slides his hands down Stiles’s ass and follows the pants down. His shoes and socks disappear fast and soon he can lift his feet out of his crumpled jeans. Derek rubs his nose in the close cropped thatch of pubic hair, then stands. 

“Shower,” he says again, nudging Stiles towards the itty-bitty stall. “I’ll wait here.”

The shower sputters to life, spewing cold water for a minute before turning tepid. Stiles steps in and pulls the curtain as Derek sits down on the lid of the toilet. 

“How long are you here for?” Stiles asks as he wets his hair.

“As long as it takes,” Derek says. “Scott can handle the territory. Malia and Jackson are in town, Lydia and Allison are just an hour away.”

Stiles snorts. “Malia and Jackson, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“So you’ve said.”

Soapy lather gathers around Stiles feet as he rinses off the suds. There’s a low growl and the curtain is yanked aside. 

“Hey!”

“You weren’t thorough!” Derek glowers. “Once more.”

“With feeling?” Stiles smirks. Derek just spins him and lathers up his back.

“I’ve got a theory,” Stiles says.

“I’m sure you do.” Derek digs his thumbs in.

Stiles groans. “F-fuck that feels good.”

“That’s a sound theory,” Derek muses as his hands do some sort of magic all over Stiles back. “I’ve got a theory too.”

Stiles is more or less drooling onto the wall. “Mmmh?”

Derek’s breath ghosts his ear.

“It might be bunnies.”

By the time Stiles is entirely done laughing, he’s well and thoroughly clean, wrapped in a towel and being towed to bed. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek says, stripping down to his boxers and climbing in after Stiles, settling over him. 

“I’m under your spell,” Stiles mutters, reaching for him with greedy hands. “Kiss me, asshole.”

Derek does. 

Over and over again, he kisses Stiles with gentle lips and slick-soft tongue, until Stiles’s head his swimming with pleasure and his hips are rocking up. His half-chub rubs against Derek’s thick thigh, and Derek rolls off him.

“Not good today?” Stiles whispers. 

Derek shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

“Okay.” 

They go back to trading lazy kisses. Trouble is, Derek is hot as sin and Stiles hasn’t seen him in months. Soon, he’s rock hard, and naked, and all he can think of his Derek’s stubble against his lips. 

“Uh,” Stiles manages. 

“Go ahead,” Derek says, pushing Stiles’s hand against his own erection. “It’s okay.”

“Will you kiss me while I do it?” Stiles asks. 

Derek nods and kisses him. 

Stiles wraps his hand around himself, groaning deep. Derek’s tongue follows his lower lip, before sucking on it for a little bit. It feels fucking fantastic, making Stiles’s body sing with it. He jacks himself lazily, caught up in all the pleasurable sensations. It seems to go on forever. 

“Let go,” Derek mutters some time later, lips red and swollen. “I’m okay.”

Derek nuzzles down against Stiles shoulder, stubble dragging deliciously over his neck and Stiles arches, fucking up into his hand for real now. Derek makes a pleased sound, eyes so warm and soft. 

“You’re beautiful like this.”

“Ah, fuck,” Stiles gasps. “Derek, Derek.”

Derek hums, even though Stiles is gripping his upper arm with his other hand as his balls draw up tight, fist flying over his cock.

“Do the twist thing,” Derek says. 

Stiles does the twist thing and shakes, and shakes, and shakes apart. 

When he returns to earth, it’s to Derek gently wiping him off with the damp towel, before pulling the covers up over them. Stiles snuggles up close, tucking himself against Derek’s back, face pressed against the triskele. 

“I love you,” he breathes. 

“I love you too,” Derek rumbles back. “Now let me get some sleep.”

“ _Let me_ _rest in peace_ ,” Stiles sings back. " _Let me get some sleep--"  
_

There may or may not be a pillow fight after that, Stiles isn’t telling.

**Author's Note:**

> (Go wash your hands)


End file.
